Page 113 of Filthy Savage

My fingers curl tight around the grip of my weapon, my pulse pounding in my head. “His address.”

The things I’m gonna do to that motherfucker.

She gives it to me without a fight this time.

I start to go, turning to them. “You ever do anything else to harm my wife, I’ll kill you both. And that isn’t a threat. It’s a promise.”

“Your…your wife?” she winces.

“That’s right.” A cold smirk crawls over the corner of my mouth before I’m gone, back in my car and heading to that asshole’s place.

I’m gonna have so much fun with him.

He’s home alone.

I got lucky. Would’ve had to kill the witness.

Popping the lock of the back door, I step inside, my footfalls light, the sound of the television coming from somewhere in the house. I follow the noise, stepping past the kitchen. When I make it into the den, I find him on the sofa, his back to me.

He doesn’t hear me. Doesn’t notice the gun.

Not until it’s pressed to the back of his head.

“What the…” He turns, his face growing with panic. “You…”

“So you remember me.” My mouth jerks. “Must’ve left some impression.”

“What do you want, man?” He raises both hands in the air. “What’s this about?”

The nine remains pressed to his head before I come around. Settling on the ottoman right before him, I let the weapon dangle between my legs, staring hard, letting seconds drift. ’Cause I know with each one, he’s even more terrified.

“Look, man, if this is about Amara, she and I are done. I’m with someone else.”

I let out a dry laugh. “I know what you did.”

“I didn’t do shit to her! If she said I did, she’s lying.”

In a flash, I’m on my feet, towering over him, the barrel digging into his Adam’s apple. “You’re gonna put on yourfucking shoes and we’re gonna take a drive to your cousin’s house. You know, the one you gave Max to.”

His gaze fills with instant terror.

“That’s right. Desdemona told me everything.”

I can see his eyes working up a plan. Though nothing he says will save him.

“She, uh, owed me money and couldn’t pay. You know how it is.” He attempts to laugh it off, but when I smash the pistol into his jaw, he’s not doing much laughing.

“And you thought taking your girlfriend’s dog was the right thing to do?” I snap. “What kind of man are you?”

He cowers, holding his arms up to protect himself.

“Get your ass up!”

I don’t wait. I yank him by his shirt, dragging him barefoot out to my car. Opening the passenger side, I throw him inside, then get in.

“Address.”

When he doesn’t say a word, I remove the gun from my ankle holster and dig it into the center of his chest.

---